by Hayes, Drew
So far as he knew, luck only bent to one master, and that was the man Ralph was playing against.
94.
Nick glared across the table at Professor Pendleton and Dean Blaine. They’d arrived at the underground bunker early, anticipating that some words might need to be exchanged with the former HCP student. He wore his annoyance outwardly, like a shiny hateful badge, from the moment they entered. Despite that, he said nothing as they took their seats, preferring to simply stare holes into them and tap his fingers impatiently on the table.
“I suppose you’re wondering why we didn’t tell you about the connection between Charles Adair and Globe,” Dean Blaine said at last. The others would arrive soon, and they’d be pumping Nick for details while combing through every bit of what he’d been shown. Most of it was already known to them; after all, Professor Pendleton had personally borne witness to the tragedy of Shelby Adair. Still, they needed every scrap of information they could get even as they worked to schedule another session with Galina. Abridail had dangled a tantalizing secret and had demonstrated enough knowledge to prove he might just be able to deliver.
“You know, rather than you pushing some shitty excuse on me, how about I start tossing out a theory and you tell me when I’m wrong,” Nick replied. “Charles started building his company with good intentions. He needed to make a lot of money to take care of his wife, and new Heroes don’t tend to move that much merchandise, so he wasn’t going to get by on a government salary. Then Shelby died, at least so far as the public knew, and he began spearheading a charity in her name, which demanded he keep the business thriving so the money would flow. Of course, now we know he also needed a lot of capital to squirrel her away somewhere while researching how to cure Powereds.”
“Technically speaking, until someone lays eyes on Shelby, we only have a very well-grounded suspicion.” Dean Blaine ignored the withering glance from Professor Pendleton. “Yes, there is lots of evidence that points to her being alive; that said, I feel at least one of us should point out the possibility that we’re working largely on word of mouth. Trustworthy word of mouth, but word of mouth all the same.”
“Fair enough,” Nick said. “But if our working assumptions are correct, Charles still had a great need, both public and private, to continue amassing wealth. Nowadays he’s established himself as an institution; however, when he was first starting out, I’m sure things were far shakier. Some big scandal—say, his brother killing a teammate and becoming reviled as a criminal—might have knocked his plans askew.”
Nick rose at this point, walking slowly from his side of the table toward the older men. “The odds of that were slim, true. Hero names and powers are considered government secrets, although sometimes, when they go rogue, details tend to slip. Since Globe was actually alive, a fact we’d be fools to assume Charles wasn’t aware of, he understood that the name Phillip Adair might leak out. And while Alchemist wouldn’t be harmed by it, Charles Adair, budding entrepreneur and philanthropist, might suffer serious backlash. So Charles spent a big chunk of newly-earned capital to purge any record of his brother from the face of the Earth. I’ve spent the last few days digging, and there are zero provable familial connections between the two men. At worst, if Globe’s identity came out it would be a case of two men who happened to share a last name and served on a team together. Heroes obviously wouldn’t betray the secret of one of their own, especially a charitable man like Charles who merely had the misfortune of having a brother go off the deep end.”
Nick stopped a mere two feet from where Professor Pendleton was seated, leaning slightly down so he could look his former teacher and the dean in the eyes. A long, silent moment passed between the three, broken when Nick slammed his hand onto the table hard enough to send an echo through the whole room.
“None of which explains why in the nine hells you kept me in the dark. After we’ve gone in this deep, do you genuinely not trust me? I realize I’m not exactly a moral pillar like Vince, but you can’t possibly believe I’d do anything with that information to hurt my friends. So, yes, Dean Blaine, I would very much like to know why I’ve been kept in the dark regarding this essential—this crucial fucking detail that might have led me to something useful over the last year of my life!”
“How about ‘because it wouldn’t have mattered’?” Professor Pendleton halfway rose from his own seat, only Dean Blaine’s hand on his shoulder keeping him in check. “The mystery of what happened between Globe and Intra is one that has haunted the Hero world for years, and most of us already knew he was Charles Adair’s brother. You’re a smart guy, Nick, but people with abilities and resources far greater than yours—fuck, far greater than the HCP’s—have dug into this mystery and pulled at every string. What do you really think you would have uncovered if you’d known about the connection?”
“I have no idea,” Nick admitted. “And now, we’ll never know, because you didn’t give me the chance. It’s been nearly a year since I got pulled out from the recesses of my own mind, and I’ve spent all that time working, thinking, and researching, all while missing a pretty crucial piece of the puzzle.”
“Enough.” Unlike Professor Pendleton, Dean Blaine did stand all the way up. Even doing so, he didn’t stand quite as high above Nick Campbell as he recalled. The damn kids; they just kept on growing, no matter how much he wanted them to stay small and safe. “I made the call to keep the secret. Charles Adair is a very powerful, connected man. The last thing we needed was to make an enemy of him, and sharing such a dark secret of his with a college student would do precisely that.”
“Only if he found out,” Nick countered.
“Yes, Nick, you probably could have kept it quiet. But what about Mary, who was bound to glimpse such a thing inside your mind? Or Alice, or Vince, if you gave in and told either of them? One stray thought, one slip-up around someone with more love for Charles and his money than us, and suddenly we have direct opposition to our investigation.”
Dean Blaine paused to gauge Nick’s reaction. The anger he’d shown when striking the table seemed to be gone; though, with someone like Nick, one could take nothing at face value. He did appear to be listening though, and whether that was an act or genuine attentiveness didn’t really matter. Nick wanted to seem receptive, which meant Dean Blaine should keep going.
“Be mad at me if you like, although I think when you truly examine the situation, you’ll find that in the same circumstances your choices might have been similar. I did what I thought was best, weighing the serious repercussions of your being found out against the slim chance that you might find something so many others had missed. It is what it is. You can either be bitter or move forward.”
There was a moment, short-lived but unforgettable, when Dean Blaine thought Nick was going to choose the former. His hands clenched, and though his head didn’t tilt toward the door, one could never be entirely certain what the eyes beneath the sunglasses were doing.
“I’ll be honest, I’d probably be a lot more pissed off if it wouldn’t make me a hypocrite,” Nick told them. “Before we go any further, I need to ask you something serious. Not as Vince’s friend, or a former Hero-in-training, or even as an unapologetic crook. As one person seeking the truth to another, do either of you really believe that Globe is a villain?”
“Logically, I know I have to treat him as one, and I can see the evidence spread before me plain as day,” Dean Blaine said. “But in my heart of hearts, no. I’ve never been able to accept that Globe would murder anyone, especially not his best friend.”
“Same here. Phil was… let’s just say the adopted apple didn’t fall too far from the tree,” Professor Pendleton added. “It would be about the same as Vince killing you.”
“Oh, let’s not take it that far. I’m nowhere near being a fellow Hero, and Vince is pretty stalwart about doing the right thing.” Nick lowered himself into a chair near them, not returning to his place across the table. “But I take your meaning. And honestly, I’m really gla
d to hear I’m not the only one with serious doubts about his guilt. There was something about the guy; he just didn’t come off that way.”
“You mean from old recordings?” Dean Blaine asked, already suspecting his assumption was wrong.
“No, when we met in person last May. That was my bit of hypocrisy, you see.” Nick looked at both of them, visibly bracing for their reactions. “I never told you that Globe was on campus, helping us during the attack on Lander.”
95.
As the fire faded away, Vince could see a slight bit of searing along the concrete wall. Given the absolute torrent of flames he’d released, he’d been hoping for something a bit more impressive. Then again, Vince didn’t actually know how much heat it took to melt concrete; he made a mental note to look it up. With a minor exertion of effort, he reabsorbed the excess heat in the room and prepared to strike again.
This time, he went with electricity. Rather than simply gathering what he could and throwing a bolt, Vince drew out the absorbed energy from within. All of it was being concentrated into his right hand, which was already starting to glow and crackle, small sparks racing between his adjacent fingers while the rest of him held perfectly still. Vince had worked tirelessly over the years to control how much energy he let out in his attacks and how much he pulled in when absorbing. Focusing his power, being able to fire a bullet instead of a cannonball, giving himself non-lethal options, all of it had finally allowed him to feel comfortable with an ability that had run wild for so much of his life.
Today was different, though. It had to be. The last trial had shown Vince a little more of what the world would be like when he stepped outside of Lander. Innocent people couldn’t always be removed from the battlefield. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Vince had understood that, but being confronted with it had still knocked him off balance: even more so when Dean Blaine had explained to them that there would be times they willingly had to let people die in order to save some greater number. Vince had hated that class, hated sitting there and listening silently as the system was explained. Not because he thought Dean Blaine was wrong. No, Vince had loathed it because his mind kept flashing back to the trial, and the more he did, the more he understood that the system was probably right.
Vince’s entire hand was glowing now, yet he still pressed on, condensing more and more of the absorbed electricity in to one spot. There was no part of him that relished the idea of taking life, not even that of a criminal. No… that wasn’t true. Vince almost lost focus at that thought, but pushed past and kept gathering the energy.
The truth was that there was a part of him that relished it. For as hard as he’d tried to deny it, the sessions with Dr. Moran had forced Vince to accept that the anger rearing its head when people he loved were in danger wasn’t coming from nowhere. That rage lived inside him. It was a fury born of loneliness and despair; of being tossed aside at birth, being shunned by those who took him in, losing the only parent he’d ever had, getting abandoned by the first girl he’d ever loved. Part of Vince was angry, furious at the world for taking away every chance at family he’d had for so long. He didn’t want it to be true, but his tendency toward violent reactions at the mere prospect of someone he cared for getting hurt proved that it was. Vince had lost too much too early, and now he couldn’t stomach the thought of parting with anyone else.
Small bolts were beginning to arc off his hand, zapping seemingly random spots in the air. Though he wanted to add in more energy, Vince sensed that he’d reached the bottom of that well; this was all the electricity he possessed. He’d need to start gathering more before training; this wasn’t nearly enough to truly push his boundaries. But it would have to do for a start.
Taking careful aim, Vince picked a spot on the wall and conjured a memory of the Sims from their last trial. He needed to be accustomed to attacking human faces. He needed to make peace with what he’d be tearing from the world. Vince had decided that there would be no more innocent casualties around him. No more friends, no more civilians, no more Heroes. Dean Blaine was probably right: it was impossible for a Hero to save everyone. Vince knew that was true, so he’d made his choice. He would continue trying to help criminals when he could, showing them mercy, giving them a chance to mend their ways. Lives on a wrong path weren’t inherently lost; Vince still believed that to be true.
However, when the crucial moments came, when the life of a criminal had to be weighed against that of an innocent, Vince wouldn’t allow himself to hesitate. He couldn’t afford to, and neither could the people who’d be counting on him. The faster he could end those conflicts, the better chance of no one being caught in the crossfire. That was why Vince was doing this training, remembering what it was to take away the control and the filters, to truly unleash hell.
There would certainly be times when he would only get a single chance to stop his enemies. He had to make sure that one shot would be enough.
The bolt that flew from Vince’s hand was brief, lighting the room for a fraction of a second. It was dense as a tree trunk, however, and struck the wall with a mighty crack that left Vince’s ears ringing. Gray dust and shards of wall flew outward, and Vince instinctively leapt back, covering his mouth. Slowly, the dust cleared to reveal a small crater in the wall with scorch marks emanating outward. Vince approached carefully, noting that the size of the dent was about twice as big as one of his fists.
“It’s a start,” Vince muttered. That level of attack might bring down a Super with enhanced endurance, but it was iffy. Roy seemed to be shrugging off more and more with every trial they went through, and there were bound to be criminal Supers out there stronger than him. Vince needed more power, more energy, and he needed to be able to unleash it all in a single blow. One strike. One attack. One chance. That could be the difference between a lone grave and a dozen.
When this was over, he’d work on absorption. Chad had been right; Vince was spreading himself too thin between offense and defense. Now that he’d reoriented his thoughts, Vince had started to realize how powerful an offensive weapon his absorption could be. Without even thinking about it, Vince had beaten the super-speed user who’d killed Sasha solely by absorbing. In the moment, it had been fury and instinct, but that wouldn’t, couldn’t keep getting him through. He needed to take in more, faster, from farther away. Steal everything they had, steal the very blood from their veins, and then turn it back on them. That was how he’d keep everyone else safe.
Letting out a long breath and refocusing, Vince clenched his left hand. This time, he’d try kinetic.
96.
“Globe showed up with a child in tow, augmented your abilities to previously unimagined levels, and then vanished unseen by any other people on campus. Does that accurately sum up the events?” Dean Blaine thought he was doing a tremendous job keeping a clear, calm tone in spite of just learning that the world’s most notorious criminal Super had been on Lander’s campus during the attack. It was hard to understand his feelings on the revelation; part of him was thankful that Globe had been willing to pitch in and help despite the risks. Yet knowing Globe’s true power, Dean Blaine also couldn’t fully suppress the twinges of resentment, imagining how many more lives might have been saved if Globe had been allowed to act freely.
“From my perspective, yes,” Nick confirmed. “There’s really no way to be certain he didn’t talk to anyone else before me, although I think I’d have known if he did after.”
“How?” Professor Pendleton asked. “This campus was scoured by Supers with sense-based abilities we can’t even imagine, and none of them found so much as a single clue Globe was here. How would you know if he’d talked with anyone else after you?”
Nick tried to find how to explain it, which was made more difficult by the fact that he wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. “I can’t… thinking back on that time is sort of a blur. Like a night where you get blackout drunk, and there’s only a few brief flashes here and there that you use to piece things together.”
“This new state was akin to intoxication?” Though it was somewhat off course, Dean Blaine couldn’t help from being curious. He’d always wondered what a power like Nick’s could do if properly trained and marshaled. Having it enhanced to such a degree as Nick described was a fascinating insight into the possibilities it might offer. Or, it might terrify Dean Blaine down to the bottom of his very soul.
“Other way around,” Nick said. “It’s like this me is the drunk one, and that version was in such a higher state of thinking that my lesser mind can only grasp bits of it. But as to how I know he didn’t talk to anyone else… his line, his path, it didn’t touch any others. At least, not directly. Please just take me at my word on that; I’m not going to be able to put it any better and trying to think back to that moment is giving me a headache.”
“Let’s assume you’re correct for now, then,” Dean Blaine said. “This raises many more questions. Who was the enhancer boy with him? Why did Globe come to lend aid, even from the shadows? And, of course, the old one that always seems to be nagging at the edges of these discussions: who in the hell is feeding him the information about what goes on here?”
“If we assume that the Intra incident painted Globe in a false light, then the ‘why’ questions are easy,” Nick said. “He’s a Hero who didn’t want to see HCP students hurt. And if he is a bad guy, he might have done it just to protect Vince. As for the kid, I’ve got no idea, and I’ve done some digging for answers already. But you’re right about that last one, Dean Blaine. I think we’ve had a spy in our midst for more than long enough.”
The mole had been a constant annoyance since Nick had first begun to suspect they were compromised. Every plan, every tactic, every possibility, all of it had to predicated on the possibility that someone might be feeding that information to unfriendly outsiders. The problem had lessened as Nick became more and more certain that Globe wasn’t an enemy, yet even that didn’t dismiss it entirely. With Abridail found, there was finally time to give the issue his true and proper attention.